A Simple Misunderstanding
by daughterleilani1
Summary: On the ride to Earth after Endgame, Voyager's command team have a simple misunderstanding. After running from the problem, can they find each other again?
1. Fate

Kathryn was avoiding him. Chakotay decided she had to be. They had been in the Alpha Quadrant for more than six hours. Orders had been received, debriefings scheduled, and parties were in full swing. He had been congratulated, hugged, and even kissed, so many times he had lost count. But the one person he desperately wanted to congratulate on her success had disappeared the first moment she could.

After bursting through the Borg transwarp tunnel and apologizing to Admiral Paris for not calling ahead before arriving sixty or so years early, Captain Kathryn Janeway had turned to her left looking for her second in command. She wanted to connect with him and share the pinnacle of their success together. But he wasn't there. He wasn't at her side during their moment of triumph. He was gazing lovingly into the eyes of the blonde former drone at the Astrometrics console. She covered her distress well with a whispered thank you to their savior from the future.

When she ordered him to the helm, he realized his mistake. He set in the course ordered by Starfleet Command and turned back to speak with her. She nodded and quietly said they would talk later.

That was six hours ago.

Chakotay paced his quarters like a caged animal. Every time he tried to talk to her, she had either been in confidential meetings, checking in with department heads, or cuddling with Tom and B'Elanna's new baby. Always, her reply was the same - 'later, they would talk later'

Before they got to Earth, he had to know what her plan was. It was more than likely that the Maquis would all be released, but that hadn't been confirmed yet. Not only was the question of their future employment up in the air, but where would they go? If Starfleet decided to not pursue incarceration, would they still be willing to house all fifty of them until they found new occupations? It seemed unlikely to him, so he was eager to discuss options with his commanding officer as soon as possible. While they were traveling slowly toward Earth, the clock was counting down and he would soon know his fate, one way or the other.

" _Bridge to Commander Chakotay. Incoming data transmission from Starfleet Headquarters for you, sir."_

"Thank you, Harry. Route it to my quarters. Chakotay out."

Chakotay took a deep breath and sat in front of his comm. terminal. Keying in his command code to open the message, Voyager's first officer began to read of his fate.

 _Commander Chakotay_

 _USS Voyager_

 _From: Admiral Carter_

 _Starfleet Headquarters SF_

 _Mr. Chakotay,_

 _Let me begin with the information you most desire. None of your former Maquis crewmembers will be charged with any crime as of this date. Captain Janeway has forwarded her logs and the ship's official records and we have found no evidence indicating that an indictment is necessary._

 _The next piece of business depends on you. The majority of the admiralty feels that the former Maquis can be useful as potential officers. However, your past, and their loyalty toward you can't be ignored. We will not be renewing your commission with Starfleet at this time. The other members of your former crew will be offered commissions at appropriate rank and housed as officers provided you cooperate with a dishonorable discharge, and after review, removal from the Sol System. If not, the admiralty has authorised full DDs for all former Maquis and they will be responsible for sustaining themselves after release when Voyager docks. The possibility of indicting you on separate charges at that time would seem likely. That is your choice. Regardless of your decision, you are instructed not to leave San Francisco once you arrive at HQ. We will arrange for your housing at that time. Please reply with your decision as soon as possible - no later than Voyager's arrival in Earth's orbit._

 _Regards,_

 _Philip Carter, ADMR_

Chakotay sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. The news really was the best he could have hoped for. As much has he disliked accepting de-accreditation, he reasoned that it was really all he could do to give his crew options for moving forward with their lives and careers. He also knew his Captain would be furious. She would, no doubt, want to argue for full commissions and back pay for all officers, including him, but he didn't feel like that was realistic. The Vulcan Spock came to mind - 'the needs of the many...'. He would accept - there was no other choice, but he had to speak to Kathryn before sending his response. Furious or not, he'd need her support when passing along his decision to the rest of the crew.

He quickly located Captain Janeway on the internal sensors. She was on deck twelve, most likely heading for engineering. If he hurried, he could catch the turbolift down the hall and meet her before she went inside. She had dodged him one too many times and this time he would walk and talk if that's all she'd allow.

Kathryn Janeway didn't dawdle, per se, but she was taking her time, patrolling her ship - most likely for one of the last times. She wasn't naive enough to think they would simply pat her on the back, say 'great job', and let her keep Voyager for her own personal use. She could probably request to go back into space. Maybe, they would even give her Voyager again, but, for the time being, she really wanted her feet on the ground. Her home was no longer in the confined cabins of the ship, but with her family, both old, and hopefully new, down on Earth.

She paused at that thought. New family. She buried those thoughts way down in her mind. If she allowed herself to dwell on her hopes for her new family, she would break down in tears in the middle of the corridor. If only she hadn't waited too long, and shown so little affection, perhaps Chakotay wouldn't have moved on. She forced herself to smile at a passing ensign and turned her thoughts back to her ship.

Running her hands along one of the control panels, she thought of all the times the ship had survived seemingly on sheer willpower. Despite the odds, the tritanium and circuitry had beaten the odds and held together to deliver them to their safe haven. However, the bulkheads weren't the only thing that kept her going all those years. Again, her thoughts turned to someone who was supposed to be beside her. Except he wasn't. At the time when she needed him the most, she'd found he wasn't there.

That wasn't fair of her. He was there. Just not where she wanted him to be. She had always pictured him standing beside her the moment they entered Federation space. She would reach over, gently grasp his hand, and whisper to him, her promises of a future together. That was what she had always envisioned. But that's the problem with a plan that involved other people, especially if that person was unaware of 'said' plan. If she'd never told him, how could she expect him to be in the right place at the right time? She shook her head again to banish the thoughts once more.

Left foot, right foot. Don't think about Chakotay. Left foot, right foot. Don't think about Chakotay. Hopefully, this would get easier as time went on, because she couldn't imagine having a conversation with anyone at the moment, and it making any sense. He permeated all of her senses, all of the time.

"Kathryn!"

' _Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear,'_ she thought. ' _Maybe if I keep walking he will get the hint.'_

Left foot, right foot. Left…

He grabbed her elbow, stopping her momentum and forcing her to acknowledge him.

"Didn't you hear me calling? Kathryn, I need to talk to you," he pleaded.

"There's nothing to say. If you will excuse me..."

She tried to pull her elbow from his grasp, but he refused to let go. He pulled her even closer. Her fight or flight response activated at his nearness. Her nose filled with his spicy scent.

"I won't excuse you, Kathryn. Not this time. You have been avoiding me for hours. Why?"

He punctuated his question with a shake of her arm. Her breathing increased and she suddenly felt like she was drowning.

She began pulling her arm away in earnest. "Let go!"

"No! We need to have this out right now." He stepped even closer, invading her personal space, nearly to the point of full body contact. She didn't understand his sudden display of forceful urgency.

Her eyes narrowed and her voice dropped a few levels. "I'm not doing this in a corridor, Commander. York is expecting me in Engineering. Let me go!"

He glanced behind him, then forcefully grabbed both her shoulders and shoved her into the weapons locker located just outside Engineering. Chest to chest, he wedged them between two shelves of compression rifles and keyed the door shut.

"Then we will talk in here. You wanted private, now out with it. Why have you been so scarce today?!"

He loomed over her like a powerful jaguar and she suddenly felt like prey. Their chests were touching, rising and falling in sync. The ragged breathing of anger began to dissipate and she became very aware of the tight confines of the small space. The shelving unit behind her forced her to align her body with his - chest to thigh. His hands were planted on his hips in anger.

The atmosphere of the tiny alcove slowly changed as they eyed each other. Her hands on his chest, initially placed there to push him away, were burning fire through his uniform. He heard her breathing change, and watched her eyes darken with desire. For him.

He paused just a moment, holding his breath. But then, ever so slightly, she tipped her head toward him. Without conscious thought, he pounced, wrapping his arms around her back and crushing his lips to hers. Her cry of surprise, he swallowed whole.

Her arms slid around his neck and she sighed into his mouth. He accepted her invitation and swept his tongue inside to meld with hers as her fingers wrapped tightly in his hair. He pulled back only for a second to catch his breath before attacking her mouth at a different angle.

Her knees went weak, and he thrust a thigh between her legs to keep her upright.

She was rubbing herself along his leg, until she realized what was happening and shook herself free of the lust-filled haze and pushed hard against his chest. He bounced back against the second shelving unit panting hard as her hand flew to cover her swollen lips, bruised from his kisses.

"Kathryn…" he wheezed.

"No!" she cried, punching the door release and making her escape. Once in the hallway, she turned back to face him in the dimly lit room. "Don't call for me again."

She walked out of range of the sensor, and the locker door slid shut.

What had she done?


	2. Running

Chakotay stayed in the locker for several minutes, trying to calm his breathing and control his reactions. Spirits, he had kissed her. Forcefully. What was he thinking? A look of desire and want had appeared in her eyes, and he'd lost control. His hard-earned restraint had been lost in a single moment, and she couldn't get away from him fast enough.

He leaned back against the cargo shelves and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. He had to calm himself down if he was going to be able to face her, or anyone else for that matter. After taking a few deep breaths, he keyed the door open and headed for Engineering.

Walking through the large double doors, he didn't immediately see his captain. He touched Lieutenant York on the shoulder and asked her whereabouts.

"The Captain's not here, sir. She stopped in to check on the magnetic constrictor realignment after the Borg transwarp trip, but left about five minutes ago."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Chakotay sighed as he stepped toward the doors again and tapped his combadge. "Computer, locate Captain Janeway,"

 _Captain Janeway is in the Ready Room_.

Perfect, just perfect. She had retreated into a 'safe space' and no wonder. He had pushed far too hard this time. It was probably wise to let her cool off a bit before approaching her again, so he changed directions and headed for Sickbay.

B'Elanna might appreciate some company and he hadn't yet met his Goddaughter. He was going to have to do some serious thinking about how to deal with his latest blunder.

Two men sat in a dark corner of the officer's observatory on the grounds of Starfleet Security. They sat together in silence and sipped their coffees while staring at the revolving star charts on the oversized view screen.

"The Benarans are the most dangerous race we have had to deal with so far. You know that," a voice quietly spoke.

"I know. Section 31 won't send anyone in right now. Paris thinks they aren't enough of a threat to utilize one of their operatives."

"So we go around 31," the older man said forcefully. "If they won't take this threat to our security seriously, I will."

"Philip, I agree that this needs attention, but we can't just skirt the rules here. We need a trained tactical operative. 31 is the only place to procure someone."

"Maybe not."

The younger man watched the glint change in the older man's eyes.

"What are you thinking?"

"I may have someone. But I can't approach him. He's disgraced, kicked out of the ranks; however, he's well versed in tactics and undercover operations."

"And dispensable?"

"I think so. No family. No significant relationships. This could work, Miles."

The observatory doors slid open to reveal Owen Paris. He strolled to the replicator and ordered an herbal tea and a sandwich before joining the two other admirals in the sitting area of the observatory.

"Evening, Miles, Philip. What are we discussing?" Owen asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"The Benarans. I can't believe Section 31 won't take action," Miles replied.

Philip glared at the younger man.

"We don't agree with your analysis of the situation. The Benarans are mercenaries, yes, but we have no definitive intelligence that Federation outposts are their targets. Until we do, and why, the Section won't authorize an infiltration. You know that," Owen reasoned.

"I thought finding out the 'why' was the purpose of Section 31," Philip muttered as he stood. "Have a good evening, gentlemen."


	3. Forgiven

Three months later, Kathryn Janeway sat curled in her father's favorite chair in the living room of her childhood home. Fresh snow was falling outside and she stared through the panes of glass separating her from the bitter cold of an Indiana winter. At this early hour, all was quiet in the house and the fading moonlight caused the new snow to glow and light up the outside world. It was a sight she had sorely missed over the better part of the last decade.

As a child, she always felt the snow was overrated, often prized by people who didn't have to live in it. It was good for the first fall, for making snowmen, snow angels, forts, and having epic sledding and snowball fights with her younger sister. But after that, the mess turned brown with mud, and was no longer beautiful shimmering glitter. It became a nuisance - a cold nuisance. She wrapped her throw tighter around herself and let her mind wander.

Her homecoming was all that she had expected it to be. Family members rushing to hug their loved ones, her mother included. Gretchen Janeway had barrelled through Starfleet security and the crowds of families to wrap her arms around her daughter. Phoebe Janeway wasn't far behind. Between the two women, they had nearly squeezed the life out of her on the platform of the Presidio.

Kathryn had made it a point to greet the families of every single crewmember that was present. She personally assured all of them that orders had been delivered and signed off on, with no issues arising, even for the former Maquis. She had initially questioned that, but Admiral Carter had assured her it was all taken care of, and not to worry. It was time to party.

"Some party," she whispered quietly to herself.

She was feeling the ache of separation from her longstanding Voyager family. Friendships forged over years of working side by side, had been stretched, and in some cases, forgotten already. When you didn't see someone every day, it was a lot harder to maintain contact and closeness. That drew her thoughts to a certain first officer.

Sighing again, she ran a finger along the frosty glass of the window. Where was he? What was he doing right now? Was he feeling as alone as she was? Her thoughts jumbled through her memories until she settled on the last personal contact she'd had with him - a brief handshake on the Presidio during the family meet-and-greet. He'd congratulated her on her success and wished her a good leave with her family before he'd turned his back on her and disappeared into the crowd. She didn't follow.

The memory of that weapon's locker incident had burned itself into her memory. It represented a serious lack of judgement on her part. The man was already seeing someone. For years she hadn't given him any indication of her feelings for him and thus, couldn't blame him for trying to find happiness elsewhere. Her decision to live a solitary life didn't mean he had to too.

She had managed to keep tabs on most of her Voyager family fairly well. Tom and B'Elanna were working together on shuttle design at the Starfleet Department of Engineering facility in Tampa. Tuvok was still on Vulcan recovering from his illness. Harry Kim, now a Lieutenant, was serving on the USS Reagan. The Doctor was happily writing a textbook on the treatment of Delta quadrant diseases using only basic equipment. The Doctor's medicine on-the-fly techniques were to become a new class at the Starfleet Medical Corps in San Francisco.

She hadn't followed up on _him_ since she watched him leave the Presidio after that final brief handshake. In many ways, she didn't want to know. She didn't want to hear how happy he was with Seven. How they were planning to get married. The Admiral had watched it happen and the experience had turned her into a version of herself that she never wanted to see again - a bitter old woman who had only lived for the job; a woman with no personal life, whose only goal had been to get Voyager home.

By then, sadly, it wasn't even Home anymore. Just Earth. The Admiral had said as much, while trying to convince her younger self of the infallibility of her plan. For the Admiral, home had vanished when the people she held most dear had pulled away. Tuvok with his deteriorating mind - stuck in a continuous loop of time where he felt he had to keep her safe - and unable to maintain a coherent conversation. Chakotay had married Seven and then lost her in some kind of tragic accident.

Admiral Janeway would never elaborate on her and Chakotay's lives during that time, just that they were never the same after Seven's death. The Admiral's life was ruined at that point and she focused on the only thing that kept her going, getting the ship back to home base.

Kathryn sighed again and slid deeper into the chair, her blanket covering her face up to her nose. She really did miss him. Her battered heart tried to tell her that it was best that she not know where her best friend was. He couldn't hurt her again that way. But she had been selfish for a long time. By pulling away to nurse her wounds, she'd done neither of them any good.

She'd known that he'd continue to look for her during the remaining hours leading up to their triumphant landing on the grounds of the Presidio, and she'd managed to play 'keep away' the entire time. The only time he'd managed to get within ten feet of her, was during the final landing sequence on the Bridge, but they were both all business at that point.

Admiral Carter had assured her that all the Maquis were to be released, so, in her mind, there wasn't anything to discuss. Her wounded heart had won that battle. She'd let him walk away from her and forced herself not to message or check up on him at all. Now, she had no idea where he was, if he was well or happy. She wasn't much of a friend.

The weapon's locker kiss had caused a rift in their longstanding friendship. An instant black hole that she had needed all her strength to pull away from to avoid being swallowed whole. That kiss had been a powerful reminder that her feelings had never waned. But it was a stolen moment in time. Not fair to her, to him, and especially not fair to the young woman he had been dating at the time. Seven had been a personal project of hers for years, so, knowing he had chosen her of all women on board, added an extra layer of insult to the injury. However, knowing that the problem had to be addressed before they could even begin to heal the rift in their friendship, she made a resolve to try to forgive him, and herself, for the lapse.

A steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of her face, temporarily fogging up the window.

"You look a million miles away, Kath."

Kathryn gratefully nodded to her sister and took the offered warmth. Phoebe tucked her feet up under herself as she settled on the adjacent couch.

"Not a million, Pheebs. Just dreaming."

"Uh huh," Phoebe replied in disbelief. "Who are you thinking about? I remember that look."

Kathryn quickly straightened and fortified herself with a sip of the bitter liquid.

"Do you remember making snow forts when we were kids? I was just thinking about how fun the first snow was, before it got muddy and things got difficult and so complicated," her voice trailed off as she stared out the window again.

"We're not really talking about snow forts, Kathryn, are we? Why don't you drop your guard, just for a minute? If you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?"

Kathryn sighed and turned toward her sister. Phoebe was right. Being too guarded had gotten her into this mess.

"He kissed me."

"Chakotay?"

She nodded her head and locked eyes with her younger sibling.

Phoebe shrugged. "That's good, isn't it? It didn't take a genius to read between the lines of your logs, Kath. You've loved him for a long time."

"Yes, I have," Kathryn sighed as her eyes drifted toward the snow again. "But it's more complicated than that. He was in a relationship with someone else when it happened."

Phoebe looked confused and ducked her head down until Kathryn met her eyes once more.

"Ah, so that's what happened? It doesn't seem like him. I thought he was more honorable than that. It was one of the things you mentioned that attracted you to him."

"He was - is - or so I thought. Oh, but Pheebs, that kiss was so perfect. I lost myself immediately when he pulled me into that locker."

"Locker?" Phoebe smirked. "That must have been some kiss. It wasn't champagne and roses, it was in a locker?"

Kathryn grinned and shook her head, no. "I had been avoiding him. I heard he was seeing Seven of Nine."

"The drone?"

"Yes. And I couldn't handle it at that moment. So, I avoided him. Something I'm rather good at, if you remember."

Phoebe nodded and motioned for Kathryn to continue as she sipped her own coffee.

"He tracked me down outside Engineering and tried to confront me. I told him, I wasn't going to argue in a corridor. He took that literally and dragged me into a weapons' locker. We just stood there, staring at one another - anger and embarrassment simmering- and then everything changed. The next thing I knew, he had me in a crushing embrace and was kissing and touching me. It was surreal but wonderful."

Phoebe nodded and set her cup on the coffee table. "What happened?"

Kathryn sat her half-empty cup next to her sister's.

"I panicked. I pushed him away and ran. I still don't understand why we'd both kept our distance for so many years, and suddenly, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. When I realized who we were and what we were doing, I couldn't get away fast enough."

A new voice joined their conversation from the entrance to the kitchen.

"That's easy enough to explain, darling."

"Good morning, Mother," Phoebe replied, sliding over to make room on the couch for Gretchen. She sat cradling her own cup of the morning java as the sunrise peaked over the hills, its warm glow filling the farmhouse living room.

"Kathryn, I've been listening for the last few minutes while I poured my coffee. You know why you reacted the way you did."

Kathryn stared blankly at her mother.

"Oh, Kathryn, do you really need me to spell it out? You'd just come off the high of ending your mission. Your emotional balance was unstable at best. It's those moments when you either laugh hysterically or cry for no reason. The slightest change in your equilibrium would have you reacting more dramatically because you were off kilter and you already thought you'd lost him to another woman."

Phoebe nodded her agreement and picked up her coffee from the table.

Kathryn grabbed hers as well. A well-known defense mechanism she used when gathering her thoughts. "That's why I didn't push him away immediately."

Both women nodded and sipped from their cups.

"Why did he react that way? He wasn't under the same pressures or coming off the same high. Why did he kiss me at that moment?" Kathryn wondered.

"Maybe it was a last resort kiss from his perspective," Phoebe offered. "Maybe, he decided since this was the end of your professional relationship, he could take the risk to see if you felt the same. Another woman or not, I could see a person taking a shot for the impossible if a safe option arose."

"Safe?" Kathryn questioned.

"Sure. Think about it from his perspective. If you were receptive, he was free to end it with the drone, and move on with you. If not, he could pull away and not have to see you every day and deal with the pain of rejection."

Kathryn turned away from her mother and sister and gazed out over the snow now bathed in warm early morning sunlight. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was just a spur of the moment action by two lonely people. She'd forgotten about Seven easily enough for those first few moments. Was it so unbelievable to think that maybe he had too?

Chakotay had always been honorable - to the point of annoyance sometimes. The more she thought about it, the stronger her feeling was that it had all been a misunderstanding. A kiss like that wasn't something easily ignored.

"It really was a great kiss," she grinned over her shoulder toward her sister. Phoebe giggled.

"After coffee, you should call him, darling. If nothing else, try to resolve this issue and regain your friendship," Gretchen offered.

"I think you're right, Mom. I'll try to call him. This has sat too long and we deserve to settle this."

The three women clinked their coffee mugs together and watched the sunrise.

Whatever morning hassles B'Elanna thought she had before, were no match for mornings with a three-month old Klingon. Miral smacked her mother hard again as she tried to button the tiny onesie around the child's bottom. For three months of age, the quarter Klingon was surprisingly strong.

"Got it, you little brat," B'Elanna whispered, lifting the baby onto her hip. "Mommy wins."

Tom called for her from their living area. Propping the baby higher on her hip, she headed towards his voice.

"Comm. call from Indiana. Can you get it?" he asked, juggling baby food containers.

Tom had really stepped up to the demands in the father department. He'd instantly fallen in love with this tiny ridged-forehead person and doted on her day and night - welcome assistance for her mother. The birth had been relatively easy for B'Elanna, but she was having trouble adapting to the mommy role. Other parents in their circle of friends assured her it would come naturally, but she was still unsure of herself. Having another person completely dependent upon one was a frightening feeling for someone who had lived so long on her own.

Shaking her thoughts back to the comm. call, B'Elanna sat down and activated the monitor. A familiar face appeared on the screen.

"Captain! Good morning."

Kathryn smiled at her engineer and the spanner-in-training on her hip.

"Good morning, B'Elanna. Remember, you are supposed to be calling me, Kathryn. How is Miral this morning?"

"Hitting!" Tom hollered from behind his wife.

"At three months? She *is* her mother's daughter," Kathryn smiled gently.

"What's up, Kathryn?" B'Elanna asked, steering the conversation away from the baby, who was now pulling her mother's hair into her tiny mouth.

Kathryn shifted nervously on the screen. "I'm looking for Chakotay. Apparently, he's left San Francisco and didn't leave a forwarding address. I'm ashamed to say, I haven't spoken to him in a while, and I don't know where to start."

Tom moved into the monitor's line of sight over B'Elanna's shoulder.

"I haven't seen him since the breakup. Did Seven say anything?" He asked Kathryn.

"Breakup?" Kathryn replied.

B'Elanna nodded. "He and Seven split a few hours after we got back. She said she wanted to explore her humanity in the larger environment of Earth without being tied down or something to that effect."

"Ouch," chimed in, Tom. "I knew they broke up, but he didn't tell me that much. Honestly, Kathryn, when he disappeared we thought he was with you."

"With me?" She replied with a raised eyebrow. "Why?"

B'Elanna threw an elbow back and caught her husband in the kidney. "Because he's an idiot and doesn't know any better. I think Chakotay was heading to Dorvan to visit Sekaya. Have you tried contacting her?"

Kathryn shook her head. "I don't have her comm. frequency. Send it over and I will try there. If you hear from him, let me know, okay? I don't like that he's disappeared on everyone."

"Likewise," Tom answered while transmitting the Dorvan contact codes over the channel. "Don't worry, I'm sure he's okay."

"I hope so. You two come over soon, okay? I'm missing my baby snuggles."

"You aren't missing anything, Kathryn," B'Elanna replied. "She hits, bites, and pulls hair."

"Traits I love in my Klingon women," Tom laughed. "Talk to you soon, Kathryn. Paris out."

B'Elanna pushed back from the console and handed the drooling baby to her father for her breakfast. She was thoughtful while watching him make shuttle noises as he guided the spoon to their child's constantly hungry mouth. As a quarter-Klingon, she was already on cereal and mashed fruit. Klingons ate their first meal of freshly killed meat by their first birthday.

It wasn't like Chakotay to disappear without a trace. Tom had been right in his ill-timed comment regarding his whereabouts after the Seven fiasco ended. The majority of the crew hadn't heard from Kathryn in that time either, so, they assumed the command team had finally tumbled into bed together and would emerge when they felt like it. The world had kept spinning and they didn't think anything of it, but perhaps they should have.

B'Elanna felt guilty now, knowing that he might have needed her and she'd been so busy with Miral that she hadn't noticed him slip from the fold. Something was obviously wrong and if Kathryn Janeway couldn't find out his whereabouts ... a hole of fear opened in her chest. Men like Chakotay didn't just fade into the shadows.

A thought clicked into her mind. The release of the Maquis; her own appointment to the Engineering Corps. Surely, Starfleet would have been well within their rights to send both her and Tom packing since they had both been booted from the ranks long ago. Maybe their ride into this new life wasn't earned as they had thought - maybe it had been bought or negotiated for, and that's why he had vanished.

Their freedom at the cost of his? It was time to start digging.

"Tom…." she whispered, interrupting the shuttle spoon. "I think we might have a problem."

Kathryn paced her mother's living room. Something was very wrong. She had contacted the Dorvan communications terminal right after her conversation with B'Elanna. The colony shared a single portal for all off-world communications and it had taken several hours to get a reply. When Sekaya finally responded, the news wasn't what she'd wanted to hear.

Chakotay had visited his home planet, but was long gone. Apparently, Sekaya had confronted him about marrying someone from within the remaining tribe and joining the council as a leader of the colony. He'd become angry with yet another woman 'planning his life for him' and stormed off. That was shortly after the fall out - more than two months prior - and Sekaya hadn't heard from him since.

That left Chakotay missing in action for more than sixty days.

Kathryn tracked his departure to a civilian shuttlecraft from Dorvan to Deep Space 7. Chakotay had arrived on DS7 nearly a week after Voyager's crew were released, but his name never appeared on the departure lists. It seemed likely that he'd used a different name to depart the Station. She had contacted Commander Narok of DS7 and he'd had his security team do a full sweep for Chakotay. There was no trace of him anywhere on the station.

She moved in front of the window again. After her conversation with Sekaya, she'd conferenced with B'Elanna and Tom and they would arrive shortly with as much information from the station as they could gather. In the meantime, she was forced to do the one thing she always hated - sitting and waiting for someone else to provide an answer for her.

She'd just paced her third trip around the living room when she heard the knock on her front door. She raced to the foyer and yanked the door open to reveal her former engineer laden with a dozen PADDs. Tom was right behind her with Miral. Gretchen Janeway swooped in, grabbing the child with promises of an eventful playtime, and left the officers to discuss the concerning situation.

"Sekaya said that Chakotay left for Dorvan on stardate 54667.5. That's the day after we finished the debriefings. He was only there for a few days," Kathryn supplied as they all sat around the low coffee table with PADDs of data spread across the surface. She grabbed one from the top of the pile.

Tom nodded and added the date to the timeline they had started on the way to Kathryn's house.

B'Elanna looked up with a questioning glance. "Only a few days?"

Kathryn nodded, grimly.

"Long story, but she tried to push him too soon into doing something that he didn't want to do. He got frustrated and stalked off." Kathryn glanced back down at the arrivals and departures for Deep Space 7. "The transport shuttle Mercury arrived at DS7 with Chakotay on board on stardate 54675.7. He reserved a room on the station, ate in the bar at least twice, then his identification stopped being used. However, according to the departure logs, he never left the station."

She tossed the PADD aside and grabbed the communications logs for the station. "There are also no records of him receiving or sending any messages while he was on the station."

B'Elanna started rubbing her temples. "If he had stopped using his real name by then, he could have sent a message using false credentials. We could check out the authenticity of all the access codes used during the timeframe."

"No, that won't work," Tom replied, taking the communications PADD from Kathryn. "This says there were over 14,000 transmissions sent or received that week. Since we can't narrow down exactly when he left the station, that would leave hundreds of thousands of ID's to check. That's a month's work."

"Maybe, we are looking in the wrong place," Kathryn said as she stood. " Perhaps, he didn't send a communication. Maybe, he met someone at the bar?"

Tom looked up and watched his friend start pacing again. "Do we have access to the video feeds for the bartender? Everyone has to settle up and that angle should have most of the bar in view."

B'Elanna spun the monitor toward Kathryn and started typing commands into the system. All three pushed close together to watch the readouts.

"Computer analysis: facial recognition for Chakotay in Morlin's Bar, Deep Space 7 between stardates 54675 and 54801," she ordered.

The computer faithfully beeped and data began to scroll across the screen. " _Two positive matches for Commander Chakotay during the specified timeframe,_ " the tinny voice stated.

"Those we already know about," Tom sighed.

"Wait, wait…" Kathryn said, reaching over B'Elanna's shoulder to scroll back over the data. "Look here," she pointed. "There are three instances where the computer can't confirm it's him. Hopefully, we are a little better at identifying him than the computer is."

She keyed up the first instance.

"No, that person is too short to be Chakotay. He's at least ten centimeters shorter," B'Elanna whispered. They moved onto the second tentative match.

"The feed only got the back of his head on this one," Tom replied. "But I think that's him. Computer what is the subject of this capture drinking?"

" _Antarian Hard Cider is pictured,_ " the computer replied.

Kathryn grinned and nodded to her friends, "Oh, yes, that's him." She ignored their inquisitive glances and shrugged, "Another long story. What's the stardate there?"

"54680.7," Tom replied, adding it to their timeline of his movements. "So, that's two days after he arrived on the station. He ate in the bar the day he arrived and the day after. This drink isn't on his bar tab."

"Now we're making progress!" B'Elanna replied. "We need to find out who paid for that drink."

Kathryn started typing in the commands, and her face fell. "The bartender paid for it. It's legitimate. Damn it."

"I thought we had his alter ego there for moment," Tom said. "What about the third tentative match?"

Kathryn fast-forwarded the recording to the third tentative match for Chakotay. They all sat in shocked silence. It was indeed him, but he couldn't have looked more different. He was wearing black leather - similar to his Maquis uniform - and his hair was pulled back into a long gray ponytail that hung down to the middle of his back. The image was of his left profile but his tattoo was gone. Several new wrinkles adorned his once smooth face and a glittering gold earring in his ear matched the newly formed ridges on the bridge of his nose. He was the image of a perfect Bajoran appearing nearly twenty years older.

A bout of rolling nausea hit the pit of Kathryn's stomach.

He was talking to someone, also in all black and a hood. They kept their backs to the cameras the entire time they were in view. Kathryn quickly searched the stations records for the hooded person, but each time the person was in view of a visual recorder, they kept their back to the monitors.

B'Elanna cross-referenced the hooded person with all footage of the transport docks. There was nothing there. It was as if he had turned a corner and disappeared. She switched gears and checked the surveillance for Chakotay's departure in his disguise.

"There! Chakotay got on a transport on stardate 54683.6. That's the day after he got the drink from the bartender and a few hours after he met with the hooded figure," B'Elanna explained.

Tom picked up the departure logs and scanned for the stardate.

"There's not a ship departure flight plan logged for that. I don't know where he went from there," Tom replied.

Kathryn sighed. "Then we have a dead end. Private transports are impossible to track if they don't log a flight plan. Do we have a general direction from the external sensors for the ship?"

Tom shook his head thumbing through the sensor data.

"If I had to guess, towards the Cardassian Neutral Zone, but I'm not sure. They jumped to warp just outside of the stations docking clamps."

Kathryn paced toward the fireplace and looked at the crew photo on the mantle. She picked it up and lightly ran her thumb along Chakotay's picture. This was her fault. If she hadn't panicked the way she had, Chakotay may not have run at the first opportunity. If she hadn't driven a wedge between them, he would have called her after his disagreement with Sekaya, and he would be here now, and safe. Instead, she had been selfish and indulgent, running away to lick her wounds, rather than dealing with the issue head on.

She'd stewed over that incident for so long, there was no one there to catch his warning signs. No one to save him from himself and now, they had no idea where he was. He was obviously working undercover, but for whom? And with a calculated identity change, he would be even more careful to conceal his movements.

"I'm going to call, Dad. He may or may not be able to help, but it's worth a shot," Tom whispered as he stepped into the kitchen and away from the two women in thought.

"Why didn't he call me, Kathryn? I know I was a little preoccupied with the baby, but I could have helped," B'Elanna said with a shimmer of tears in her eyes.

Kathryn set down the crew photo and moved to the engineer's side on the couch. She wrapped her arm around her friend.

"I don't know. This is all my fault anyway. I upset him before we even left the ship and he took off the moment Starfleet released us."

B'Elanna sniffed a little and pulled away from the hug to grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table. "Why would you upset him?"

Kathryn sighed. Where to even begin to answer that question? She knew that telling B'Elanna everything that happened was out of the question, but having someone else know that she had hurt him, someone that knew him so well, might help her to understand the frame of mind he was in when he ran.

"I was avoiding him," she began. "I knew about his relationship with Seven and I couldn't handle it."

She started studying her fingers.

B'Elanna prompted, quietly, "Go on."

The two women locked gazes and B'Elanna could see the level of hurt in the older woman's eyes.

"We had this moment. In the heat of an argument, we both lost control. I said and did some things that I'm not proud of. And then, when he needed me, I distanced myself," she whispered.

B'Elanna wrapped her arm around her and squeezed her former captain tight, whispering, "Now it's our turn to rescue him. All will be forgiven, you'll see."

Tom reappeared with Owen Paris in tow. Both women stood to greet the Admiral.

"Owen, I didn't hear the door," Kathryn deadpanned.

Owen shook his head and grinned slightly.

"The transporter makes a grander entrance, don't you think? You are the queen of arriving unannounced."

"Indeed, I am. Listen Owen, I need to dispense with the pleasantries. We have a real problem, and we need some help. Chakotay is missing, and I think he's in danger working undercover somewhere near the edge of the Neutral Zone. Do you know anything about a mission he could be on; one where he would be concealed as a Bajoran?"

Owen took her arm and led her back to the sofa to sit down. He motioned to his son and daughter-in-law to sit in the adjacent chairs.

"I want to make this clear, this conversation never happened and doesn't leave this room. Understood?" Owen ordered.

All three looked astonished and nodded their consent.

"A few weeks ago, two admirals in my wing made a fuss about some new mercenaries targeting Federation cargo transports traveling between Cardassia and Bajor. It's part of Cardassia's restitution for the occupation. Officially, Starfleet's stance is that the Benarans aren't a real threat - just some mindless thugs trying to cause a problem. Unofficially, however, Starfleet security is on high alert. Not all the transports are sending supplies. Several of them are passing on intelligence from Cardassia to us regarding former members of the Obsidian Order who are trying to regroup and overthrow the fragile government. Obviously, Starfleet wants to prevent that from happening. Several operatives have been placed within the transport shipping lanes to make sure that the ships containing intelligence aren't attacked by the Benarans. We think that the Obsidian Order and the Benarans are working together to plug their security leak. If the information stops flowing, we lose updates on the Cardassian government."

Kathryn's blood started to boil. To think that Owen Paris - himself one of a precious few who had survived an encounter with the Obsidian Order - would send a traumatized man back into the line of fire just to keep intelligence flowing. The thought was enough to push her over the edge.

"How could you, Owen? How could you ever place him in a position to deal with the Obsidian Order again? You know the number one rule of undercover work is detachment from the job. He is very much emotionally involved in that!" she fumed.

"Kathryn, you misunderstand. I didn't place him there. I wouldn't have put Chakotay anywhere near that. He is so out of date with the tensions within the Cardassian Empire it is dangerous for him to be involved. No, Kathryn, those operatives I know about. My point is Admiral Carter and Admiral Sullivan both became very quiet after Chakotay disappeared. They were so adamant that we get involved with the Benaran threat, that I find it hard to believe they just decided that Big Brother knows best."

"What are you saying, Dad?" Tom pleaded.

"Section 31 does not know where Chakotay is, but I think Carter and Sullivan do. They both know I work in Section 31, although they have no idea how far up the food chain I'm situated. They think I'm low on the totem pole and I intend to let them keep thinking that. When I refused to acknowledge the Benarans as a threat, Carter, in particular, was vocal in his disagreement."

B'Elanna had been quiet throughout the entire exchange. The name Carter had caught her attention and she was trying to recall why the name seemed to have significance.

"Admiral, is that Philip Carter?" she finally asked.

"What have you got, Lieutenant?" Kathryn asked, in full command mode.

"Philip Carter is the admiral who signed our release paperwork. He also signed the dishonorable discharge letter Chakotay received while on Voyager."

"Let's go see Carter then," Tom said, and stood up to head for the door.

"No, Tom," Owen replied. "Sullivan is your weak link. He's our target. I'll help you with this. If Sullivan and Carter are circumventing the Section, I'll deal with the consequences of bringing you into the loop. One nice thing about being Section 31 is that not many have a higher clearance than I do. I can get whatever supplies we need. We'll start with the Delta Flyer and your EMH. I have a plan."

All three of them gathered up supplies and made preparations to head for Starfleet Headquarters. Tom and B'Elanna kissed Miral goodbye and left her in Gretchen Janeway's capable hands for the duration of the mission, confident that no matter what happened, she would be safe.


	4. Martyr

A few days later, Kathryn, B'Elanna, Tom, and the Doctor all sat in the cockpit of the Delta Flyer being briefed by Owen Paris.

"Sullivan gave us what we needed before I even had to ask him. I have here a recording taken last night by surveillance placed in Sullivan's office the day we all met at the Janeway house," Owen explained.

He took the data chip and placed it in the viewer of the Flyer's main display. Sullivan's office appeared. Miles Sullivan and Philip Carter were standing in the main office talking.

" _Philip, I think Janeway is onto us. She started pulling records from Deep Space 7, the last known location of the Operative."_

" _Janeway is a menace but she knows nothing."_

" _He hasn't gotten as far in as you said he would, Philip. I think his disguise is too old. We should have left him younger. They don't believe he is capable of the physical demands of the higher ranking officers."_

" _I will concede that. But without the wrinkles, he was too recognizable. Mac is in better position than he is. It may be time to eliminate the Operative so Mac can expose the traitor and gain favor within the Benaran sect."_

" _Eliminate? Come on, Philip. We can't order his execution. If Janeway is onto us, that will cause an all out war within the leadership. We could be exposed."_

" _What's the matter, Miles? Losing your nerve? We knew this was a one-way mission when we sent him out there. Janeway has no bearing on this. If they were as important to each other as you thought, he would never have agreed to this mission. It's obvious their days of knocking boots are long over."_

" _Maybe. But I still think we should recall him instead of executing him."_

" _Miles, if we don't expose him as Federation, Mac can't advance. You knew this was the plan all along. Don't get cold feet now. This is the moment we have been waiting for. When Mac turns in the corpse of a Federation spy, he will move into the High Guards' rank. That's what we need to do to find out who is our leak. Send the order. Now! Mac will take care of the rest. And don't worry."_

Owen took a deep breath and turned to the shell-shocked crew. It was never easy to hear someone talking about an order of death so callously.

"This was recorded last night. Sullivan sent a transmission to a relay station early this morning. We tried to stop it from going through, but we don't know if we got it or not before it left the solar system. So, time is of the essence. An assassin may already be moving into position to take Chakotay down. We traced the destination of the message to an outpost on Legora 6. Chakotay is likely there. With the Flyer, you should be able to get there within a few hours. Holographic emitters have been installed in Kathryn's San Francisco office overnight to house a Janeway hologram and the Doctor's replica from Voyager's database. A false bio-signature has also been set up within the room. To anyone not on board this shuttle, the Doctor is conferencing with Captain Janeway over the next few days for an intensive chapter in his textbook about adding command situations to the EMH's triage section. No one will know you are gone. We are actively monitoring Sullivan and Carter to see if any other members of this rogue operation contact them. We don't know who this Mac is, but we need to find out, and also if there are others involved.

"The mission is clear. Captain Janeway and the Doctor will go undercover on Legora 6 to try to find Chakotay without compromising his cover. Tom and B'Elanna will monitor from orbit and be ready to beam you all up once Chakotay has been secured. The Flyer has been outfitted with stealth technology, including a new cloak. It should come in handy. Questions?" Owen glanced at each of them in turn and they all shook their heads. "Best of luck then, and Godspeed."

The doors clicked shut behind Admiral Paris, and Tom started the launch sequence. As the shuttle lifted off the platform, they all sat in silence. They didn't dare speak of what they had just seen until they were cloaked and on their way to a rescue. Time was already running out.

Kathryn sat reading the mission outlines and absently rubbing the bridge of her nose. The ridges placed there by the Doctor helped to conceal her identity. She glanced up and caught her own reflection in the darkened control panel in the aft section of the Flyer. The blonde haired green-eyed alien staring back at her, with ridges along her nose, temples, and chin, offered no comfort. She tucked her hair behind her newly pointed ears, touching the enlarged tips gently.

Logically, she knew the importance of being undercover. She was more widely recognizable than Chakotay at this point, and appearing on Legora 6 as Kathryn Janeway was impossible without further risking his life. But she struggled with her new appearance, hoping she could get through to him. Would he even recognize her? The door to the aft section slid open and she dropped her hands back onto the PADD in her lap.

"I saw that," the Doctor chided as he sat down next to her. "Touching the prosthetics will only speed up their deterioration. We don't know how long you will need to be disguised."

She nodded gently. "You know best, as always."

He gave her a pointed scowl. His own facial changes made him barely recognizable and his mobile emitter, hidden in his long cloak, kept his holographic form a secret as well. She smiled slightly and reached over to place her hand on top of his.

"Thank you, Doctor. I don't think I can say that enough," she whispered.

He placed his hand over hers. "We'll get him. I'm sure everything will be fine."

She shook her head slightly. "I don't just mean for today. For everything. You've become a wonderful friend over the last years and I've never properly thanked you for keeping us all alive."

The Doctor looked slightly choked up, if that was possible for a hologram. She patted his hand a few more times before placing her hand back in her own lap. He cleared his throat slightly before changing the topic.

"Have you read all the details on the mission?"

"Yes, I think it's a sound plan, but this says that I can't talk to him? Why?" Kathryn questioned.

The Doctor smirked slightly.

"Women are not highly regarded on Legora 6, Captain. The identity we are to portray is simple. I'm offering Rogan, that's Chakotay's alias, a job on Bajor and you are a perk," he replied.

"A perk? Seriously…" she frowned.

"Look, our goal isn't to destroy your honor here, it's just to get you close to him. Your goal should be get into a position to speak where only he can hear you. A whisper. He should recognize your voice. Once he does, he will agree to follow us back to the shuttle, and we can get out of the area."

"How do you propose we get close to him?"

The Doctor glanced at the gauzy outfit hanging in the corner of the room. A pale pink, almost sheer wrapped top, bare midriff section, and a flowing skirt of the same sheer material. There were opaque panels to hide the important bits, but very little was left to the imagination. She pouted slightly.

"I had secretly hoped that was your outfit, Doctor."

"I don't have the legs for it," he replied, moving for the door. "You should get changed. We should be there soon."

She looked sourly at the pink thing hanging from the storage rack. "Do I have to?" she whispered to the empty room.

They walked side by side down a dim alleyway. It went against her instincts to let the Doctor take point, but she knew she had to keep her place to maintain the facade of submission. Keeping her head down as much as possible while still trying to commit her surroundings to memory, she avoided eye contact with anyone they met in the alley while staying close to the Doctor for protection. Her flimsy excuse of an outfit didn't offer any concealment options for a weapon, so she was dependent on the Doctor and the phaser hidden in his long cloak.

She lifted her eyes slightly and peered through her lashes at the Doctor as he scanned the various establishments for the entrance to the Benaran base. Their intelligence on the planet revealed that most of the Benaran agents visited a bar across the street from the entrance before heading down the block to the barracks. They had to be sure to get into the right bar if they wanted to catch Chakotay.

She gripped her escort's arm tighter to squash the sudden sting of tears. This had to work. It _HAD_ to. She couldn't count the number of times Chakotay had saved their skins on Voyager and now they had to save him. More than likely, he didn't even know the danger he was in; that his own assigning team were planning to execute him as a martyr for the cause. She shivered. That kind of callous disregard for life was exactly what Chakotay had experienced with the abandonment of his colony all those years ago. He likely would never trust Starfleet again.

Maybe she shouldn't either. It disturbed her that the people capable of giving this order had risen to the highest levels of the admiralty. That they were able to circumvent protocols within the highest echelons of Section 31, and create a clan of operatives with killing potential, and the brass was none the wiser. It really spoke to a lack of dependable and forthright leadership, and that frightened her. It was almost enough to want to snatch everyone back to Voyager and head back for the Delta Quadrant. At least there, she could protect them. With the crew scattered, she couldn't personally secure their safety anymore. Although, she wasn't terribly proud of herself at the moment either. She had been so wrapped up in self-pity and anger, it never occurred to her to double check the Maquis release paperwork. She hadn't known Chakotay had been dishonorably discharged and removed from Earth until B'Elanna had told her. Damn, what a mess.

The Doctor quickened his pace and started to pull her toward a building. She recognized the plain entrance of a military establishment opposite the brightly lit bar, and took a deep breath as he led her inside the doors of the saloon.

Peering around the room, she saw what she had expected to see. Many patrons, most of them in uniforms similar to the one in which Chakotay had been last seen, crowded the tables in the smoky establishment. To her right, a bar stretched along the length of the wall, with a few patrons passed out and slumped over the wooden top. As her eyes swept along the counter, they met the hard gaze of the bartender scowling in their direction. She quickly dropped her head to stare at the floor.

"He's not here," the Doctor whispered. "And the bartender doesn't look happy to see us."

He gave her a pointed look and dragged her toward the bar. She obediently draped herself around his shoulder when he sat on the stool. She kept her face toward his neck as he spoke to the barkeep.

"Good evening. I'm looking for someone named, Rogan. I was told I'd find him here."

The bartender was silent for several moments and Kathryn risked peeking through her hair to get a better look at the man. He was tall, dark haired, and well built. The muscles of his bicep flexed as he scrubbed the bar mug in his hand. He was watching her closely again, so she dropped a few kisses along the Doctor's shoulder and tried to look over the room behind them.

"Are you deaf or dumb or both?" the Doctor spoke loudly. "I asked you a question."

She startled at his tone and looked directly at the barman for the first time since they entered. He finally tore his gaze from her and leveled a look at the Doctor. The scowl was back.

"Who the hell are you?" he gruffed.

"None of your damned business, that's who. You gonna tell me where Rogan is or not?"

"He's probably on the base. That's where most of these flies are when they aren't passed out in the barracks or here. What do you want with him?"

"A business opportunity."

The barman shifted his weight and grabbed another glass to scrub. They were silent for a long heartbeat.

"Who's the broad then?" the man questioned gesturing in her direction.

Kathryn's hackles rose at the veiled insult. She was grateful the Doctor couldn't feel her glare as she returned her attention to his neck.

"A benefit of granting me an interview. Rogan comes highly recommended."

The barkeep barked a laugh and she stared at him again.

"Rogan likes his women younger than that. She's far too old. You'd be wise to head out and try again when you have some real merchandise. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," he dismissed them with a shake of his hand and moved down the bar to run off the other drunks.

"That went well," she whispered sarcastically in his ear.

She watched in surprise as he dropped a silver coin of currency loudly on the counter and met the eyes of the bartender again before ushering her out the door. They crossed the alleyway and entered a hotel a few doors down from the bar. The Doctor shushed her when she tried to ask what had happened.

Exchanging more currency with the desk attendant, he took a key and began to lead her to a hall near the entrance to the hotel. He slipped the registration disk into the slot on the first door. Ushering her inside, he closed and locked the door behind him.

"What the hell?" she said, putting her hands on her hips in true Janeway fashion.

The Doctor ignored her protest and quickly dragged a chair over to the window and sat down before opening the curtains just enough so he could peer outside and see the bar.

He turned to her. "We're waiting for Rogan to make an appearance. From this window, I have a clear view of the bar and the entrance to the base."

She moved over to stand in front of him.

"Why did you pay the bartender? He didn't give us anything."

"He did. He told us that Rogan normally visits the bar and then goes to the barracks. We should be able to see him from this vantage point."

Her mouth snapped shut. He was right. She had been so annoyed with the 'old broad' comment that she had completely missed the messages the bartender was sending them. She crossed her arms protectively across her chest. Whether he was friend or foe, they didn't know yet, but the barkeep had indicated Chakotay would likely visit the bar at some point and it was the best option they had for making contact. They would have to wait for him to come out of the base and then approach him carefully.

She sat down gingerly on the bed - her clothing was uncomfortably tight in more than a few places. She couldn't wait until this was over.

"You should probably get some rest, Captain. We don't know when he will leave the base and as I don't need sleep, I should keep watch," he smiled.

She nodded and moved toward the head of the large double bed that was the focal point of the room. As much as she loathed hotels, a few minutes to clear her head sounded like a great idea. She hadn't been able to sleep much since learning of Chakotay's disappearance and she really needed to be sharp when it was time to confront him. Just as she started to settle, the chirp of the communicator resounded throughout the room.

"Doctor here," he answered, tapping the badge buried in the robe.

 _"We just received an update from my Dad. Apparently, Admiral Sullivan was found dead a few hours ago,"_ Tom reported. _"Needless to say, they suspect foul play.'_

"What happened?" Janeway called through the Doctor's open line.

 _"It looks like he jumped off of the main headquarters tower, but the video surveillance shows Admiral Carter leading him out of his office,"_ B'Elanna replied. _"When Security went to question Carter, he'd disappeared. They caught up with him boarding a transport at Jupiter Station."_

She and the Doctor locked eyes in the darkened room.

"Have they figured out who Mac is yet?" she asked.

 _"No. And Carter is refusing to talk. Let us know the moment you have Chakotay and are out of sight so we can beam all of you up,"_ B'Elanna ordered. _"I'm going to transport you down some extra supplies. The sooner we are away from this, the better."_

It felt like only a few minutes had passed when the Doctor gently shook her awake. She practically leapt from the bed.

"He's leaving the base, Captain," the Doctor whispered, gathering his cloak securely around himself.

Kathryn glanced at the chronometer quickly as they rushed out of the hotel room. It was a little before midnight. All was quiet in the hotel's lobby and they easily slipped out the doors in time to see a man with long gray hair enter the bar. They trudged along a few paces behind him and stepped inside.

The Doctor whispered to her to stay close, but out of his direct space so he could approach Rogan. She was to sidle over when he motioned for her to do so, and get close enough to whisper their plan to him. Entering the bar, they saw him sitting alone, nursing a drink at a table along the far wall.

The Doctor signalled a waitress to bring another round for Rogan and shooed Kathryn away. She wandered over towards the musician's area, trying to stay close enough to hear the conversation.

The Doctor slid into the seat across from Rogan as the waitress placed the fresh drink next to the one on the table.

"What's that?" Rogan gruffed. His obvious disdain for the Doctor showing already.

Preoccupied by the Doctor and Chakotay's conversation, Kathryn was unaware of the attention she was attracting from the bar's patrons. A man from the table next to where she was standing lunged towards her. His hands planted themselves on her body and she started swatting them away, trying to hear what was being said.

"A replacement drink, offered for a moment of your time. I have a business proposition for you," the Doctor replied smoothly.

Rogan threw back the remainder of his own drink and grimaced slightly as it went down.

"I'm already doing a job and I don't need another. Your moment was wasted."

One of the roaming hands had now wrapped around her midriff and she was pulled into the lap of the drunk alien. As she fell, the rogue hand slapped across her chest, cupping her breast tightly. She leaned in close to man and leveled her strongest glare.

"If you want to keep that hand, I suggest you let me go. Now," she growled. The man only howled in drunken laughter. She glanced down to what she hoped was that species' genital area and, although in an awkward position, punched with all her strength. It had the desired effect. The amorous alien's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed against her in a drunken stupor. She shrugged the man off, stood, and headed for the Doctor's table. She'd had enough. Both men looked up at her as she approached.

The Doctor gestured towards her. "Ah, yes, Kai. Rogan, consider her a down payment on my offer."

Kathryn realized this was her chance to whisper to Chakotay.

She slid onto his lap in the chair and pressed tightly against him. She started kissing along his shoulder toward his ear. His breathing quickened and she felt his reaction against her thigh. 'He knows it's me!' she thought. But the joy she felt was short-lived. He pushed her roughly away and she slid from his lap to land with a resounding thud on the floor.

"I told you, I'm not interested!" he shouted at them. "Keep your drink. And her."

They watched him stalk out of the bar and cross the street toward the base. The Doctor helped her to her feet and they noticed they were the star attraction in the bar. All eyes were on them, including the malevolent glare of the bartender. She turned back towards the table and picked up the refill drink Chakotay hadn't touched. Just before she threw it back, the Doctor grabbed her hand. He took the glass from her and sniffed it.

"We have to go," he replied, setting the drink on the table. He grabbed her arm and led her back out the door.

"What's happened now?" she asked once they were outside. "What did you notice?"

"The drink," he said, fumbling for their room key as they hurried toward the hotel. "It smelled like almonds. The first one he had, didn't."

"Almonds?" she questioned as he held the door for her to go inside the lobby and down the hall.

"Yes, almonds. Like cyanide," he replied, opening the lock on their room and ushering her through. He locked it behind them.

"Poison? By whom? The waitress?" she asked.

"It could be. Or the bartender. I think we were meant to have delivered that drink to him deliberately. The assassin was in that bar just now."

"I didn't notice who prepared the drink, did you?"

He shook his head.

Kathryn frowned. "We have a big problem then. Whoever they are, they know we are here. We have to get to Chakotay before they do," She replied, plucking a tricorder from his robes. She waived it in front of the window. "He's only 50 meters inside the complex, and moving toward an exit on the far side. He's probably going to sneak back around and head for the barracks." She snapped the tricorder shut and handed it back to the Doctor. " We move now."

From under the bed, she pulled out a supply pack and rummaged through it to find a phaser and a small knife. She latched the box closed again and slid it back under the bed. She tried three or four positions on her person to conceal the knife.

"I don't think that's going to work, Captain."

"Why did you replicate such a sheer outfit?! I can't hide a damn thing!" she tossed back, exasperated. She reluctantly pulled the supply box back out and chucked the knife and the phaser back inside. "You better be a good shot. Let's go."

She led the way with her tricorder, guiding them around the complex. The Doctor kept pace with her but wisely kept his mouth shut about the submissive aspect of their acting roles. She was obviously done with her acting career and back into command mode. Turning the corner behind the building, she could now clearly see the second exit to the complex and the main doors to the barracks directly across the narrow street.

She snapped the tricorder shut and thrust it behind her toward the Doctor, who concealed it once more. Holding her breath and slinking as far back into the shadows as she could, she watched as Chakotay exited the base, looking both ways for anyone following him, before he crossed the street. She watched him enter a code on the door to the barracks and slip inside. The Doctor started after him, but she grabbed his arm and shoved him backwards, while another figure emerged from the shadows on the opposite corner and followed him into the barracks.

They caught the barrack door as it started to close behind the assassin, and slipped in behind him.

Kathryn and the Doctor followed several meters behind, tucked close into the shadows in the poorly lit hallway. They could see the assassin roughly four meters in front of them, and Chakotay another five or so meters ahead of him. They all slowed as Chakotay approached his door and entered. The assassin quickly moved up and slid inside behind him.

Kathryn motioned for the Doctor to take point and draw his weapon. She wished she had something - anything - with which to protect herself. She felt very exposed with only the hologram for protection. Leaning toward the doorway, she was relieved to hear two muffled voices. She nodded to the Doctor and they burst through the partially open door.

The sight before her would haunt her for years. Even with his disguise, she could recognize the fear in Chakotay's big brown eyes as the assassin held a projectile weapon pointed at his chest. His hands were in the air in the universal surrender position. When the intruder turned his head toward them, she gasped in recognition. The assassin was none other than the muscled bartender.

"Stay where you are and lower the weapon," the Doctor ordered.

Chakotay quickly looked back and forth between his adversaries. The bartender held the projectile weapon very close to his chest. The man and woman from the bar had appeared from the hallway and now had Mac in their sights. For a moment, the room seemed to freeze.

How the hell was he getting worse at detecting deceit? Mac had been part of his placement, and he'd trusted the bartender to help keep him safe. That was obviously a mistake of epic proportions. Mac's snarling face was only a meter away from him, and on his knees, he was hardly in a position to defend himself.

Mac had entered the room claiming that Chakotay's cover had been blown and he had to get off the planet. When he'd turned his back on the bartender, he was forced to his knees with the weapon pressed to his temple. Mac had circled around in front of him to execute Chakotay while looking him in the eye.

The woman gasped as Mac turned toward the two new occupants of the room. He saw his chance and lunged for it, slamming his body into Mac's legs and smacking the weapon out of his hands. A few punches and twists later, and he was able to toss Mac over onto his back - adversary number one out of the way.

He darted around the unarmed woman who was moving toward him and, with a roar, lunged toward the second man in the room. He proved stronger than he looked. They were wrestling with a phaser when he heard his name frantically called from other side of the room. Not Rogan, but his real name. His head whipped toward the woman, recognizing her voice instantly.

She was doing some fine work herself, delivering a knee to the stomach and a double-fisted uppercut to Mac. From somewhere, the bartender had produced a phaser of his own, and she was fighting him for it. Mac held it in the hand away from her and she lunged for it, crying out in pain as she stretched. She fell to the floor and Mac swung toward the other two men, phaser in one hand, and a bloody dagger in the other. The Doctor raised his own phaser and took out Mac with a single shot. As he fell unconscious to the floor, the Doctor leapt to her side.

"Captain!" he cried, pressing his hands to the bleeding wound in the upper right of her torso. "Can you hear me? Stay with me, Captain!"

Chakotay rushed to their side, horrified at the amount of blood his captain was losing on the dorm floor. His better sense engaged when he registered the alarm sounding in the halls. The phaser fire had alerted the detection sensors. He reached for the Doctor's cloak in search of a combadge. Just as he closed his hand over it, it chirped to life.

' _Delta Flyer to Janeway. You've been detected. Do you read us?'_ Tom's voice blared over the open line.

"Chakotay here, Tom. Can you get a transporter lock on us? The Captain is injured and losing a lot of blood."

' _As soon as they detected you, they initiated some sort of energy scan. It knocked out our cloak, and we are under attack. Apparently, they don't take kindly to Starfleet shuttles in their space,'_ Tom replied.

"Do what you have to. We need out of here, now!" Chakotay said, locking his gaze onto his Captain's glassy eyes.

She looked up into Chakotay's eyes, filled with worry for her. Her vision was already starting to cloud on the edges and she knew she was close to passing out. She wasn't sure what hurt more, the deep slice in her midsection, or the Doctor pressing with all his strength onto the wound trying to staunch the flow of her blood.

She started making gurgling sounds as she tried to breathe. That's never a good thing. She closed her eyes for moment, and concentrated on taking short shallow breaths. She felt a touch on her cheek. Opening her eyes, Chakotay's face was only a few inches from hers. He was brushing her hair back and murmuring comforting words to her. Through the fog of impending unconsciousness, she thought she heard Tom Paris say they were having trouble locking onto them. It was so hard to concentrate with that siren blaring, and the equally annoying pulsing of her heart pumping blood out of the wound in her side.

She shakily reached up a hand toward Chakotay. He clasped it tightly in between his own. Anything that had happened in the past seemed to fade away. There was only this moment. She saw tears gathering in his eyes. The background noise faded as her vision darkened more along the edges. She blinked several times trying to stay focused on his face. Her back felt warm and sticky and she knew that she must be lying in a massive pool of blood to be able to feel it on the carpet like that.

She saw one tear slip out of the corner of his eye and slide down his cheek. The Doctor was practically shouting through the comm. line, but she could no longer understand what he was saying. Her vision was so dim.

Several uniformed officers appeared alongside of them, but before they could draw weapons, the tingle of the transporter took them away.

"I've got them!" B'Elanna cried from the tactical station in the Delta Flyer.

Tom lurched the flyer's nose down to duck under one of the defense ships around Legora 6. He rolled sharply to port and B'Elanna fired their weapons at the underbelly of the enemy ship. The planet's defenses had lit up within seconds of detecting the intruders on the surface. Defense turrets were hidden on the twin moons of the planet, and magnetic interference from their poles hid the larger combat vessels. Their cloak had been down for only a few seconds before a turret insured that it couldn't come back on. Completely exposed, the shuttle's occupants were forced to fight to stay close enough to rescue their comrades.

Taking one last shot at a defense turret, Tom engaged the warp engines and they disappeared toward friendly territory.

B'Elanna sent out a transmission to the nearest Starfleet vessel requesting assistance. It wouldn't be a smooth trip this time. Without the cloak, they were a bright Starfleet blip on all the sensors of area, including the Cardassians. No doubt, they already knew Starfleet had been to Legora 6 and it wouldn't take much of a leap of faith to guess why. The Section 31 operatives were in more danger now than ever.

Both Lieutenants turned aft when they heard the compartment door open. Chakotay slid into the third seat next to B'Elanna and stared at his hands, still covered with blood.

"Nice hair," Torres offered.

He glanced up at her and she saw the tears threatening to fall.

"How bad is it?" Paris asked.

"Bad enough. The Doctor could probably use your help, Tom. I'll take the conn," he replied, shrugging off his shock as best he could and moved toward the pilot's station.

B'Elanna grasped the med kit from under the tactical station and moved toward the cockpit of their shuttle. She opened a dermal regenerator and a portable sonic cleanser. She slid her hands across the controls in front of him and engaged the autopilot before turning his chair towards her.

She pulled both his hands into her lap and ran the cleanser over them, erasing all traces of Janeway's blood. She turned them over a few times and once satisfied with her work, she moved on to the regenerator. A few passes over his face, and he was no longer an aged Bajoran. The regenerator did nothing for the tears that fell over his cheek as he turned back to the shuttle's engine controls.

"How long until we reach a starbase? Kathryn is going to need more than the shuttle's med kits."

"We sent out a Starfleet distress call as soon as we had you on board. The USS Reagan is on the way to meet us. We should intercept in about an hour," she replied.

"Good," he replied, making himself busy at the station.

She studied his profile, noting the tense muscles in his shoulders as he repeatedly tapped the control panel, scanning the same sector over and over again. He continued his busy work, ignoring her observations. She waited for several minutes trying to catch his eye, and finally reached over and touched his forearm.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

"No," he replied, looking anywhere but at her. He fidgeted in his seat for a few more minutes without saying anything. She waited patiently for him to decide when to speak.

After a few steadying breaths, he finally turned toward her. "Today has been one of the worst days of my life. I was attacked by someone I thought was a friend, I attacked a friend I thought was an enemy, I watched Kathryn get stabbed, and I held her hand while her life faded away from me," he paused gathering himself. "Why are you here? How did you even find me?"

"That's a long story," she sighed. Her own guilt over his disappearance rushed to the surface, and she had to tamp down her anger towards herself. Despite what Kathryn had said, she still felt personally responsible for his withdrawal from their Voyager family. If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own inadequate maternal feelings for Miral, she would have seen him pulling away. More self-loathing rushed to the surface. It wasn't much of a leap to conclude that Kathryn was now injured as a direct result of her inability to deal with motherhood. A touch on her own arm pulled her back to the conversation with Chakotay.

"Hey, are you alright?" He repeated her words from a few moments before and reached up to swipe a tear from her cheek that she didn't realize had escaped.

"Yes. I'm fine. Just emotional today. Back to your question," she diverted. "We had all gotten a little too comfortable in our planetside life roles. A lot of us lost touch, including you. We knew of your breakup with Seven, but I didn't know you had an argument with Kathryn before you left Voyager."

He inhaled a sharp breath and guiltily looked away from her.

"How much did she tell you?" He asked quietly.

"Not much. Just that you both said and did things you regretted. She didn't elaborate, but I knew it was significant."

He snorted slightly and adjusted their course a few degrees on the auto pilot.

"You could say that," he whispered, still not meeting her eyes and busying himself with the console - a delay tactic with which she was all too familiar. He needed a moment to center himself and decide how much to tell her.

"I kissed her," he finally said.

Her mouth formed a silent 'oh' as she digested his simple sentence and all its implications. That made a lot of sense. Kathryn hadn't known about the breakup, and she was fiercely loyal. So, engaging with a committed man was not on her list of acceptable relationships. It explained why she'd pulled away from everyone and was trying to deal with the aftermath on her own. From her perspective, she had effectively cheated with her daughter's lover. His voice interrupted her thoughts again.

"It was stupid. We lost control and I pushed her. I felt so guilty when she retreated, but I didn't want to pressure her again, so I left her alone to gather her thoughts. We never got to talk about it again."

"She was upset with you, but not for the reason you think," Torres replied. "I don't want to speak for her, but I don't think she regrets your kiss."

He turned hopeful eyes on her. That was one of the main reasons he had decided to take on the dangerous mission. He thought he had pushed her and she'd rejected his feelings. Knowing that she didn't love him as he loved her, and that he had likely destroyed their friendship, left him feeling unable to breathe. So, he had left at the first opportunity, getting as far away as he could in hopes he could reassemble the shattered pieces of his life.

"You know I'm not one to delve into mushy feelings, but I think you both need to sit down and have a long heart to heart. This dance is going to get one of you killed one day," she bit out, regretting the words as soon as she said them.

His face fell again as his thoughts returned to the injured woman in the rear compartment. This was all his fault. If he had just faced her after the kiss, none of this would have happened and she wouldn't be fighting for her life after a stab wound on some worthless planet. His cowardice could have cost her life today. But despite all he'd said and done, his friends had come after him. It was that small sliver of hope that he had to hold onto with all his strength, and if there was a chance in hell that he could regain her trust, he had to try.

"You came after me, Torres. I owe you," Chakotay whispered, clutching her hand.

"No, * _she*_ came after you. Tom and I are just along for the ride."

She squeezed his shoulder gently as she rose to move back to the tactical station. She knew he was still being eaten up by guilt, as was she, but knowing that they were all still alive for the moment allowed some of it to fade. They all had some emotional discussions ahead. She decided that she would tell someone of her continued discomfort with motherhood. Maybe they could all get rid of some of the guilt in their lives and achieve the peace they were so desperately searching for.


	5. Healing

Harry Kim and the Reagan arrived right on schedule. Tom, the EMH, and Kathryn Janeway were beamed to their sickbay while B'Elanna and Chakotay stayed aboard the Flyer as it docked in their shuttlebay.

Word came down that the physicians wanted to keep Kathryn sedated for a while to properly heal the deep wounds in her abdomen. The Doctor had done a fine patch-up job on the shuttle, but the internal damage was extensive and they needed time to repair it with precision.

Chakotay didn't want to be in the way, so he tried to keep himself busy and away from the physicians although it was difficult to be separated from her. He managed to get his long hair cut and returned to its usual black crew cut. While he waited to hear from Sickbay, he donned some civilian clothing, and sent a report to Admiral Paris about his rescue.

He managed two hours away from Sickbay before wandering through the large double doors. The Reagan had a Sickbay similar to Voyager's. It was slightly larger with the main surgery area in the center of the room instead of the medical officer's office. He could see the physicians in conference on the far side of the room.

The Reagan's doctor informed him that Captain Janeway was fully healed and no longer sedated, just sleeping. In the main chamber, only one bed was occupied, and he slowly made his way over to it as the Doctor retreated to his office.

Her appearance had been returned to normal. Her chestnut hair fanned out around her head on the biobed. He stepped up and straightened the blankets below her gowned shoulders and his fingers lightly skimmed along her hairline and down over her smooth cheek. All the ridges and pixie points had been removed and her fair skin was unlined in her sleep. She was beautiful, as always.

He dragged a chair to her beside, and settled himself in it. With all his immediate tasks completed, he intended to stay by her side until he could explain what happened and, hopefully, make her understand how much he treasured their friendship. He would beg her forgiveness for his lapse in judgement - or many lapses in judgement, depending on the perspective. Sighing, he slid his hand down her arm to wind his fingers around hers.

He'd made mistake after mistake since their return to Federation space. It seemed to him that in every instance, he chose the wrong path. Forcing their encounter in the corridor, pulling away from B'Elanna, arguing with Sekaya, and finally taking this foolhardy mission that nearly got them all killed.

Owen Paris had let him know that Admiral Carter had been distraught to hear that not only was Chakotay alive, but his other star infiltrator, Mac, was also in custody. They still had no idea how far Carter and Sullivan's influence went, or if there were more operatives placed elsewhere. But, for now, the threat appeared to be contained. The Section 31 operatives funneling information back to the Federation were still reporting in on their regular schedules and no interruptions had been reported since the discovery of Chakotay's false placement. He heaved a sigh of relief. Knowing that he hadn't caused any more deaths was little recompense, but he took what little comfort there was to heart. This entire situation had been full of pitfalls and bad decisions on his part.

He wanted to believe that the Admiralty, as a whole, was unaware of Sullivan and Carter's activities. He wanted to have something to place his trust in once again, but he had his doubts. How could they not have known about his appointment? Carter had been in charge of the Maquis resettlement after their return and had all but promised redemption in the eyes of Starfleet if Chakotay assisted in this assignment as a civilian. They would protect him, Carter had promised, and when it was over, he would rejoin Starfleet as a decorated officer.

He'd been such a fool. There had never been a promise of assistance for him. It was all a ploy by Carter to get him to cooperate with their plan. Owen had been clear that at the time of the transmissions to Voyager upon their return, Carter had indeed been acting within the boundaries of Command's decisions regarding the fate of the Maquis. They wanted to keep officers like B'Elanna around to benefit the Federation, but couldn't risk Chakotay recruiting them if he decided to defect again. His release from service was genuine.

He felt a gentle squeeze on his hand and looked up into the cloudy eyes of his former captain and best friend.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi."

They stared at each other in silence for a few heartbeats. She gripped his hand tighter.

"How do you feel? Are you in pain?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm a little sore, but I'm sure that's the new skin loosening up. I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you came after me," he replied, leaning over to place a gentle kiss the back of her hand. "Owen filled me in on how you found me. You always were a good detective, when you wanted to be."

"I am when it comes to you. I'm glad we found you," she whispered, squeezing his hand again as she yawned. "Needless to say, your reaction when I climbed on your lap was not what I expected."

He grinned and dropped his chin to his chest for a moment.

"My reaction was fairly obvious to you, I'm sure. I can't believe I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry I pushed you onto the floor."

"It's not quite what I thought you would do."

They laughed awkwardly for a few moments, before their easy conversation once again dipped into strained silence. Unbeknownst to each other, they both mentally traveled back to their shared kiss in the weapons locker. She gripped his hand tightly.

"Don't… Don't do that," she ordered.

"Do what?" he replied, already knowing the answer.

"We can't run from this again. We need to talk about what happened."

"I already told you I was sorry for pushing you off my lap," he teased.

She gave him a hard stare.

He glanced away, "Sorry."

"Let's start at the beginning," she said quietly, settling back a little deeper under the blanket.

He sighed, staring at their joined hands, and then told her everything. He told her of his frustration when she started pulling away from him; about the Admiral telling Seven of Nine she would hurt him, and about Seven ending their brief dalliance, calling it 'a regrettable occurrence' that would impede her desire to explore relationships outside the ship. He whispered of his joy about their kiss, followed by his heartbreak when she ran from him.

He continued through his recruitment for Carter and meeting Mac. He told her of his short-lived undercover work with Benarans and finally his happiness at being here on the Reagan and talking through everything that happened.

"Because, you mean everything to me, Kathryn. I can't lose you over this. I love you," he finished, glancing toward her face to gauge her reaction. He smiled slightly. She had fallen asleep. He replaced her hand on the biobed, and after a moment's hesitation, leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her temple. She hummed quietly, but didn't move.

Satisfied that all was well for now, he walked back towards the double doors to make preparations. They may not have gotten to finish the conversation but the topic was still open and he was hopeful that she would want to finish it over dinner after she was released.

When she woke an hour later, all was quiet again in the medical bay. Glancing to her left, she was surprised to see that Chakotay wasn't there. She had closed her eyes just for a moment, listening to the soothing sounds of his voice as he described his actions just after their falling out. She must have been more tired than she thought.

She slowly sat up and gingerly palmed her side as the new skin there stretched with the movement. Hands reached out to steady her. She glanced up into B'Elanna's face with a smile.

"I'm all right. Just a little tight," she assured the younger woman. B'Elanna nodded and took her arm to help her slide off the biobed.

"The Doctor has released you under the understanding that you may need some help for the next few hours as the regenerated skin and muscle get their first workout. He implied you shouldn't be alone tonight, but he settled for an escort to your cabin. Just don't try any yoga or Klingon battle drills and you'll be okay," B'Elanna laughed as she handed Kathryn a loose fitting robe and slippers.

The older woman looked at her oddly, and she just laughed harder.

"Thanks, B'Elanna, I think. Have you seen Chakotay?" she asked as they stepped into the hall. "I dozed off on him earlier and we were in the middle of a conversation."

B'Elanna chuckled a little and nodded as she reached out to the call the turbolift to their floor.

"Yes, I saw him. He asked me to be there when you woke up, so I could lead you home. Deck 6," she called to the computer after they stepped inside the lift.

Kathryn waited for several minutes and when the door opened on her deck and Torres still hadn't elaborated, she tried to push.

"Was he all right? I felt badly for falling asleep on him. We were discussing something kind of important."

"He's fine."

She looked at B'Elanna incredulously. Had he really not told her a thing? They stopped outside a guest VIP cabin when B'Elanna finally turned to face her.

"Look, Kathryn, I don't want to stick my nose in where I'm not wanted, so I'm not going to say much. But, whatever he got off his chest before you dozed off seemed to be enough. He was falling apart in the shuttle but after he left you in Sickbay, he was almost back to his old self. So, don't worry. Whatever you need to finish discussing, it's not a bad thing," she smiled as she reached out and gently hugged the older woman. "We are all so glad you're okay. Breakfast tomorrow? I know a certain Lieutenant Kim who is wanting to visit his former captain."

B'Elanna turned her toward the door, keyed it open, and walked away down the hall.

He smiled as he heard the door to Janeway's cabin slide open. He turned back to finish lighting the candles on the table. Kathryn stepped inside the room wearing a confused look on her face.

"I've prepared a feast in honor of my savior," he smiled. "My hero."

She took in the elaborate table setting. A large round table with white linens, two candelabras, champagne flutes, and gold plated dishes and flatware. There were salad bowls already set out and a stasis unit nearby, no doubt containing the main course. Knowing Chakotay's infamous sweet tooth, there was likely dessert somewhere in the mix, as well.

Her eyes drifted back to the man himself. He was wearing a loose cream shirt open at the neck, and tan trousers. His expression turned from mirth to concern and she realized she had been standing still for several seconds without saying anything. He was beginning to question his bright idea.

"If you'd rather be alone, I can just…" he started to say as he began gathering up the plates.

"No!" she interrupted. "No, not at all. I'd love to have dinner with you. Can I change first?"

He gestured toward the bedroom and turned to replace the dishes. As she walked away, he let out a breath through pursed lips. This was going to be harder than he thought. Without knowing exactly when she'd fallen asleep during his declaration in Sickbay, this could be an awkward night until he found his footing.

She cleared her throat as she re-entered the room. She had changed into a cream-colored button down dress with a loose sash at the waist; her feet were bare. She lifted her hands and looked down her body as if to ask if she looked presentable.

"Perfect," he replied, holding out her chair for her at the table.

She moved toward it and gingerly sat down. He noticed her discomfort and circled around to kneel beside her chair in concern.

"Are you all right? The Doctor said you'd recovered."

"It's just some residual tightness from the regenerated skin. I'm fine."

Almost without thinking, he kissed his fingertips and then gently pressed them to where the injury was just under her breast. She gave a startled gasp at the unexpected contact and lifted her right hand to cover his. She cupped his cheek with her other hand and met his misty eyes, knowing that he was reliving her injury in his mind.

Chakotay lifted his other hand and covered hers on his cheek for a beat. Then he bought her hand to his lips and gently kissed the palm and then each knuckle before clasping it in between his own two hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Whether he was apologizing for his touch, her injury, his disappearance, his fling with Seven, or what, she didn't know. But she didn't need anymore apologies from him. She had enough of her own to deliver.

She slid from the chair to kneel in front of him, chest to chest.

"Me too. For everything," she replied. Lifting her free hand, she touched his cheek again, before dropping it to chest to rest over his heart. They touched their foreheads together and simply sat there for several seconds.

"I love you, Kathryn," he finally said, lifting his head to gauge her reaction.

She smiled softly before pressing her lips to his for the first time.

Pulling back, he grinned at her before lifting his hands to her shoulders and tugging her forward for another. She hissed as the motion caused her to bend at her middle.

He jumped back as though scalded. "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Just stretched the wrong way. This would probably work better if we weren't on the floor."

He nodded and helped her to stand. She blew out the candles on the table and, turning back to him, saw the confusion in his eyes.

"This will keep for lunch tomorrow," she replied, and, with a saucy smile, led him toward the bedroom. "I have another idea for tonight."

Entering the bedroom, she called for the lights to dim. She slipped her hands under his shirt and splayed them across his belly. He lifted his own to the shirt and pressed against it, trapping her hands to his skin.

"Kathryn, we don't have to do this right now. You're healing," he offered.

She lifted a brow in question and moved her hands higher, dragging the shirt up.

"I know. But I want to do this now," she said breathily. "All I want is you."

He groaned as he dropped his hands. Her nails raked down his chest and she moved them to the hem of his shirt to lift it up and off. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sealed her lips to his with a moan. She began walking backwards toward the bed until her calves bumped the mattress and she fell backward with him on top of her. Another twist to the middle caused her to hiss once more.

"Kathryn…" he started, but was cut off by the press of her finger to his lips. He gently kissed her fingertip. She grasped the upper buttons on her dress and began to undo them, one by one, licking her lips as she went. He groaned again in reply. Soon, all that held her dress together was the sash.

"Let me, please," he breathed, nodding toward the sash.

He carefully manipulated the edges of the material to open the tie, and the dress fell away from her body. He took a moment to memorize her curves. From the hollow of her slim neck, down to where it met her collarbones, pert breasts in their satin cups, a trim waist to her navel, before flaring back out at her matching panty clad hips and down her glorious legs. Traveling back up her body, his fingers lingered on the red patch of regenerated skin where her wound had been.

"Thank you, my love," he whispered. "Thank you for coming after me."

"Always," she replied, as she took his hand from her ribs, and guided it to her breast. "Make love to me, my darling."

He groaned her name as he leaned down to kiss her fiercely again. Her fingers went toward the opening of his trousers, but he pulled away from her, earning him a growl.

"I know it's not the most romantic gesture, Kathryn, but I think it would be best if you let me take these off myself. I don't see how you can do it without pulling those muscles."

She pouted but nodded her approval. He slipped from the bed and quickly moved to the clasp of his pants. Lowering them over his hips, she got an answer to a longstanding question: boxers. He was a boxers man, and a large man at that, if the tenting was any indication. He swiftly hooked his thumbs under the material and sent the boxers to join his other clothing on the floor.

Looking up, he saw a sight that would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. Kathryn was laying open to his gaze, in bra and panties, flushed with arousal, and her eyes riveted to his hips. He carefully moved back beside her on the bed and reached for her again, but she stopped him.

"My turn," she grinned.

She carefully reached behind her and unclasped the bra hiding her away from his gaze. She slowly slid the straps down her arms before triumphantly tossing the garment over his head to the other side of the room. Reaching for his hands, she guided them to her naked breasts before he leaned over her again and drew a soft kiss from her lips.

"You'll probably have to help with the panties," she mumbled against his mouth.

He smiled gently and began to kiss his way down her body.

"I can do that," he murmured against her breast. He paid homage to it as his hands slid the material down her thighs and away. His fingers probed her folds before settling on a gentle circular rhythm around her most sensitive nerves. He nipped and kissed at her breasts, marking her as his. He felt her getting close to release and he gentled his assault. She let out a sound of frustration.

"Don't worry, my love," he smiled as he positioned himself at her entrance. "We will finish this adventure together."

And he slid into her with a single stroke.

He held himself above her, holding most of his weight on his elbows, to allow her to adjust to his size - it had been a long time for both of them. Quickly, her sounds of delight filled the room and he started to move within her. He stroked in and out, and before long, her inner walls were gripping him erratically. His thrusts became uneven, and together, they tipped over the edge. They were both shaking. He was doing all he could to keep his weight off her, and his arms were nearly ready to give out.

She gently pulled him down to lay his head on her breast.

He resisted. "Don't… want to… hurt you…," he panted.

"You won't," she replied, tugging him down again.

He settled most of his weight beside her and laid his head against her breast. She was murmuring words of love in his ear and kissing his temple every so often as she stroked her fingers through his hair.

When he could stand it no longer, he reached down, pulled the comforter up around them and settled in, resting his head on his hand beside her.

"I have to know. At what point did you fall asleep during my confession in Sickbay?" he finally asked.

She laughed and reached a fingertip up to trace his tattoo and caress his face.

"Sorry about that. It was sometime around your work after you met Mac. I was so tired, I just wanted to rest my eyes for minute and listen to the sound of your voice. I had been so worried, I was just glad you were alive."

He reached out and lightly caressed her breast. "Would you like to hear the rest?"

"Yes," she sighed, contentedly.

"I told you about my placement and Mac, of course. I told you about how upset I was about tossing you off my lap. I was angry with myself for reacting to any woman but you. My head may not have known it was you on my lap, but other parts of me did," he laughed.

She hummed and wrapped an arm around his neck while kissing where she could reach.

"I told you how horrible I felt that I was attacking the Doctor when you were fighting Mac. God,I wanted to scream when I saw him stab you. How devastated I was when I held your hand. B'Elanna really pulled me back from the brink after we got back on the shuttle."

He moved his hand from her breast to her temple and through her hair. Locking eyes with her, he whispered his final thoughts.

"I told you that you were my everything and that I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied. "So very much."

She pulled him down beside her and settled into his side. Kissing his chest, she started to doze off to sleep. But suddenly her mind clicked and she rolled to the side calling for the computer.

"Computer, generate a text only message for Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres."

He sat up beside her and looked at her in question. She smiled and pushed him back into the bed beside her.

"Tell her, 'The yoga was great.'"


End file.
